


whiskey on ice, amber-brown eyes

by meridianheroine



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, During FMA events, F/M, Grief, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person Omniscient, Rating May Change, Roy and Riza drinking session, Roy/Riza - Freeform, Royai - Freeform, Some Humor, featuring Madame Christmas and the girls, roy x riza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianheroine/pseuds/meridianheroine
Summary: Everything has been a blur to Roy Mustang, and the next thing he knew, he was at Madame Christmas’ shop. Nobody could blame him, right? After all, it has been days after his best friend’s funeral. Roy swirled the whiskey in his glass, mindlessly watching the ice chink against each other. Although his throat burned from all the shots he consumed, he still couldn’t help but curse at the damned liquid. Was that all it got? He needed something stronger— a real punch to the gut— to wash away all his thoughts, even just for a moment. He glared into the crystalline golden-brown liquid as if it would grant his demand. “Mind if I join you?” came a familiar voice. Roy tossed his head up and found himself staring into the same pools of amber. Only this time, it might be what he was looking for.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117





	whiskey on ice, amber-brown eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The events in this story is a fictional scene between Episode 13 and Episode 14 of FMA:Brotherhood. After Hughes' funeral, immediately after they have transferred to Central, before they caught Barry the Chopper.
> 
> P.S. This is based from volvare's wonderful art right here:
> 
> https://volvare.tumblr.com/post/635069065171451904/i-wonder-what-they-are-talking-about
> 
> I was supposed to post this as a ficlet, but then the story expanded into a two-shot. I was feeling really poetic (to think I used whiskey as my muse LMAO), so, enjoy! 
> 
> Shoutout to the readers of my other fic, Roy and Riza Observation Journal! This one's especially made for you (I believe I owe you something from its Chapter 4 hmmm)

**I. Whiskey on Ice**

“What brings you here, Lieutenant?” Roy Mustang scratched his neck, looking away from Riza’s scrutinizing gaze. He wasn’t sure if she were there to scold him or mock him. Perhaps both. Either way, it was inappropriate to have his stern subordinate around in a bar. Although she had pledged her loyalty to him after Hughes’ funeral, Roy was pretty sure he meant following him to the upper echelon, not a downtown bar in Central.

“It’s Elizabeth,” Riza corrected him, propping her coat on the counter table, metal clunking and rattling as she raked out the stool beside Roy.

“I hadn’t recognized,” Roy said flatly. He turned his head from left to right, scanning the bar. The place was packed with people, which filled the room with chatter loud enough to block out any eavesdropping. Everyone was busy minding their own business, all dressed in their finest clothes. Roy realized it was one of Madame’s exclusive nights— lucky for him. 

After making sure no one would recognize them, he turned back to Riza. There was no denying she was out of place, but Riza was quite a vision that night. Her trademark black turtleneck hugged her body tight, and he had never been that jealous of woven cotton before. Her blonde hair was neatly pressed in their usual way, clipped without any tousled strand. Even at her prim and perfect demeanor, Roy could tell she rushed her way to catch up to him. A smirk crossed his face as he rested his chin on his palm. “Are you certain you’re Elizabeth?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She always wears her hair down.”

“Can’t a lady make her own choice?” Riza quipped, picking up the wine glass prepared in front of her. “I did not have the time. You’re not the only one busy with work.”

 _Bingo_. Roy wished he could get a hundred cenz each time he figured her out. 

“As you can see,” Riza grabbed Roy’s bottle of whiskey. “I haven’t finished processing the files for my team’s transfer to Central. I had to deal with extra papers as someone left early.”

Roy chuckled nervously. He admitted he had been slacking off more than usual these days. He opened his mouth to speak, but it snapped shut as Riza poured _his_ whiskey on _her_ glass. His mouth stretched into a lopsided grin instead. “Perhaps you are indeed Elizabeth. The Lieutenant never drinks.”

Riza ignored his remark and chugged her glass empty. Moments had passed, and neither of them spoke a word. They allowed the bar’s nontrivial dialogues to occupy the silence between them. 

“Come to think of it,” Riza broke the ice. Her gaze dipped into the wine glass at hand, her amber-brown eyes twinkling in the same hue as its contents. “It’s been a long while.”

“It’s been a long while since what exactly?” Roy snapped his head toward Riza. He felt his eyebrows knit together at her vague and peculiar statement. Realizing he had dropped his formalities, he immediately cleared his throat. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Riza only shrugged, “It means what it means.”

“Ah,” came his short reply, not wanting to probe further. It was all that he could muster at that moment. He hasn’t quite understood what Riza had said, and he suspects the culprit to be the whiskey gurgling in his stomach. If Riza meant going out to a bar, then that would be absurd. The Lieutenant never joins the team on a night out, and the only person he frequently drinks with is Hughes. At the thought of his belated friend, bitterness burned the back of his throat. This time, he was certain it wasn’t the acid oozing out from his abdomen. Grief, anger, intimacy, and any other repressed emotion were a much more deadly poison than alcohol. And so, Mustang took another sip of his whiskey, gulping down every single ounce of his sentiments.

“Has your tolerance to alcohol always been this low?” Riza mused, cutting Roy’s train of thoughts. Her lips parted ajar, and she took a sip from her drink. “You look like you’ve had your fill.”

“I do _not_ ,” Roy protested, his voice cracking into high-pitched indignant whining.

“Mhm,” Riza hummed, the sound burbling into the slightest chuckle. Her eyes pointed at the pools of sweat forming peninsulas on his white button-down shirt. Then she looked up to his reddened, flustered face. “That’s enough drinks for you.”

“Please,” Roy waved his hand dismissively, immune to the Lieutenant’s advice. “Hughes and I used to stay here until dawn.”

Before Riza can retort, Roy lifted his glass to the woman tending the bar. “Madame, would you be so kind as to prepare another bottle?”

Madame Christmas, or Chris Mustang, let out an exasperated sigh. She placed a hand on her cocked hip. “You’re embarrassing yourself to the little lassie, Roy boy.” She whipped her scarf toward her back and turned to Riza, “Elizabeth, dear, you’re free to leave this scumbag anytime you want.”

“It’s alright, Madame.” Riza gave her a small smile. “I’d prefer to watch him make a fool out of himself first.” 

Madame Christmas belched out in raucous laughter, her fist banging on the counter table. “That you do, my child!” 

The girls working in the bar giggled along with the Madame. 

“I could find you a new man, Elizabeth!” cried out Vanessa.

“Or we could send him out to the shop for you!” offered Patricia.

Roy’s lower lip protruded into a rueful pout. He was known to be popular with women, but he’ll never get used to their teasing— to think he was surrounded by women all his life! His eyes narrowed at all the irony. Not to mention they were his ‘sisters’ who were supposed to be siding with him. But then again, they had never been on his side when he’s against Riza.

The Madame slammed down another bottle of bourbon whiskey at the table. “You sure you don’t want any other drink?”

“As sure as I’m standing here, Madame. I’m content with this.” Roy snatched the bottle and dragged its mouth to the edge of the table. Before he could pop it open, he could hear the faintest snickers of the Lieutenant. “And no, it’s not because I am _weak_.”

“Says who?” defended Riza.

“It’s what you’re thinking—” Roy managed to pop the bottle open, and its cap went flying right from it. “Just a matter of preference.”

The Madame caught the bottlecap between two fingers and scoffed. “You better pay me double. Whiskey ain’t cheap.”

“And so is my taste,” Roy flashed his iconic smirk, to which Riza rolled her eyes. He poured the alcohol onto his glass and then onto Riza’s. 

“Cheers?” suggested Roy. Riza nodded in response, and their glasses chinked in contact.

One drink came after another, and Roy’s vision blurred between that moment and his memories. First, he heard glasses clinking, then bullets firing. The casks on the shelves morphed into coffins, and its bottles turned into rifles. The alcohol running in his veins rushed into his own burning flames. Light then blinded him as it passed through his glass of whiskey, and the next thing he knew, he saw Maes Hughes.

**_"You’ve got my support. I’ll work under you and push you to the top."_ **

_Work under me, my foot._ And now he’s ten feet under. Roy knew better than to curse the dead, but if Hughes weren’t so dedicated, he wouldn't have been gone in the first place. But that was what made Hughes as _Hughes;_ always the man who does more than what was asked. Fortunately, Hughes’ efforts weren’t in vain after being promoted to Brigadier General. Yet again, he was supposed to be helping Roy work his way up through the ranks, not the other way around. _That damn crazy fool._

Roy recognized the patterns of his thoughts, and he rummaged his mind for a single speck of optimism. Despite his attempts, all the conflicting voices within him stretched his mind in an internal tug-of-war. Hughes’ words then reverberated throughout his auditory canals:

**_"You need as many people on your side as you can get your hands on now, Colonel."_ **

_These hands stained with blood?_

**_"Find yourself people you could trust."_ **

Roy couldn’t even have a handful of them.

**_"Keep those who understand you and are willing to support you by your side at all times."_ **

But Hughes was one of them.

**_"If you hope to protect everyone eventually, then you’ll have to figure out a way to stand on top of the pyramid."_ **

Roy couldn’t even protect _him_.

He felt himself being dragged in the spiral of his own thoughts. He watched the vortex of his whiskey spin like a tornado in a glass, hypnotized by it until it was the only thing he saw. Then his vision went blank, nothing but pitch black. 

“He… he passed out?” Vanessa cautiously poked Roy’s head with her index finger.

“Not to worry,” Riza rose from her seat and picked up her coat. “He hadn’t noticed I’ve been dropping ice onto his drink this whole time. It’s diluted, so he’ll be fine.”

“Clever girl,” Patricia wiped their spot on the counter. “Perhaps he is low tolerance.”

“No,” Riza put on her cloak, pulling its sleeves into her arms, “This wasn’t brought about by alcohol.” 

“I’m sorry to hear about it, lassie,” Madame Christmas’ voice boomed loudly, her eyes on the glass she was wiping clean. “I gotta tell ‘ya, I really liked that chump, always paying for their drinks. A good influence on Roy.”

Riza sighed and looked at the grandfather clock beside the cupboards— 23:00 hours. It was almost midnight, and so it was time to bring Cinderella home. Riza turned to Roy, whose face lay flat on the table. “Well, Madame, we should get going.” 

“You sure?” The Madame leaned against the counter. “You could just leave him to us.”

“I’ve had my fun,” Riza exclaimed, beginning to lift Roy’s arm. “It’s time I do my share and clean up the mess. Besides, I haven't consumed much, so I can drive him home.”

Madame Christmas and the girls exchanged knowing looks. Choking down her excitement, she ushered the girls to help Riza. But before they could volunteer, Riza already had Roy leaning against her, his arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s alright, I’ll take it from here,” Riza declared, picking up her purse with her free hand. She was about to count her cenz, but the Madame urgently remonstrated, “No need for that, Elizabeth.”

Riza looked up and gaped at her. The Madame burst into chuckles at her naïve reaction. It’s as if she had never gone out with a man before. Seeing Riza cock her head to the slightest angle, the Madame cleared her throat. “We’ll have Roy boy take care of the rest.”

Riza blinked, then considered. “If you insist.” She then swung her purse on her side and began taking her step. She faced them one last time, with a small smile spread on her lips. “Thank you for all your hospitality.” 

“Not a problem!” Vanessa chirped, opening the door for them. 

“Come back anytime soon, okay?” Patricia called out as she was serving guests. 

The Madame watched Roy and Riza leave the doorstep then sighed. She admitted she felt disappointed with Roy. Passing out while finally drinking with Elizabeth again? This was nothing like how they taught him to be. 

Vanessa trotted from the entrance, approaching the counter. “D’you think he’ll finally get laid?”

“I highly doubt that,” Patricia spat, reading the orders on her list. “No woman would ever let a man like _that_ touch them. Let alone Elizabeth.”

“Girls, girls,” the Madame interjected. “Don’t forget rule number two.”

The girls sighed, their shoulders slumping in defeat. “Business is business.”

“And?”

“So mind your own,” the girls hummed, continuing the commandment, pouting as their voices prolonged the last word.

“Good.” Madame Christmas gruffed. Although she admits it also got her curious, she couldn’t help but think they’ve already passed that stage. After all, they have known each other for a long time now. 

* * *

**_"I will do anything it takes to be the man she loves. I will survive this war._ **"

Roy heard Hughes’ voice again, his consciousness fading back. He felt his glutes were on something soft, and the patches of skin on his palms and fingers told him they were lying against cold leather.

**_"And when I return home, I will swallow every horrible thing I’ve done here."_ **

His forehead creased, and he squinted, allowing light to seep into his senses. Amber-brown eyes greeted him, and he could have sworn he thought his whiskey had morphed into a new form. As recognition washed over Roy, relief filled his chest. He still has _her._ His mind continued to wane between sanity and stupor.

**_"I will smile when I’m with her. I swear on my life."_ **

Roy felt the corners of his mouth stretch into a lousy smirk— _slap!_

A heavy, thunderous smack hit his face, and Roy jolted back to reality. “Holy mother of Ishval—”

“Colonel,” came Riza’s voice, who maintained a stern gaze on her superior. “We have arrived.”

Roy allowed his eyes to explore his surroundings. Now that he had awoken from his trance, he recognized he was sitting on the passenger seat of his own vehicle. His nose wrinkled at the familiar smoky stench of the narrow alley. They were at its dead-end, and the sight of the rent house in front of them tells him they have arrived at his place.

“You fell unconscious while drinking,” Riza supplied, resting her bare elbow on the car’s open door.

“I passed out?” asked Roy, panic evident at the tone of his voice. It had been a long time since he had gotten drunk. His vision was definitely clear, and he was confident the world wasn’t spinning. “But I’m sober as hell.”

“Colonel, any man would pass out if they haven’t slept or eaten well for days,” Riza consoled, shifting her weight to one leg. “You give alcohol too much credit.”

Roy thought for a moment, then managed to put on a smile. “I do now, don’t I?” He then slid down from his car and planted his feet on the ground. Riza threw him his car keys and turned her back on him. 

“How about I drive you home?” Roy called out to her.

“In your _condition,_ Sir?” Riza jeered. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Allow me to repay you for escorting me.”

“That defeats the purpose, Sir.”

“Please? It’s the least I can do.”

“No can do, Sir.”

“Stubborn now, aren’t you?” Roy raked his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he’ll try again later. He dropped the keys into his pockets, then realized he now had a coat on. “Is this the coat you borrowed?”

“I wore that this entire time,” Riza said as she marched forth, leading Roy to his own rent house as if it were hers. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s black,” Roy gushed, scampering his way behind his Lieutenant. “Everyone at headquarters has one of these coats.”

“Touché,” Riza scoffed, admitting defeat. Roy smirked at that sound— it was a sign he made her laugh at the slightest. 

Wood creaked as they both reached his front porch. Roy pulled out his keys and rattled them as he thrust them on the lock.

“I apologize I wasn’t much of a good company tonight,” Roy assented, pushing the door open. “I’ll make it up to you the next time.”

“If there is a next time.”

“Come on, Lieutenant,” Roy whined, hanging his head back. “It will be fun with the rest of the gang.”

Riza pursed her lips. “I’ll think about it.”

Silence elapsed between them. It was already past midnight, and being at the farthest corner of the alley made them look like nothing but shadows of the night. Roy happened to catch her gaze in the moonlight. Her amber-brown eyes were screaming with concern for him, and he realized her worries were the reason for her prompt attendance earlier at the bar. Why is her timing always impeccable? 

“Lieutenant,” he heard himself say before he could hold the urge back. 

“Mm?” Riza hummed in reply, her gaze never leaving him.

“Do you know why I couldn’t stop drinking?” Roy asked out of the blue.

“Because you lack a sense of control, Sir?”

“Because,” Roy attempted to bite his tongue, but it rolled out the words on its own. “It reminds me of you.” 

Riza’s eyes widened at his bizarre statement. If his expression weren’t as solemn as they were, she could have sworn it was another one of his pathetic attempts to start a banter. Anyone would have been insulted with being compared to alcohol, but this was different. This was Roy Mustang, a man who spoke in code, never telling anything directly. When he does, he means every word he says. Roy was a man sworn to protect the country but ended up catalyzing its collapse instead. A man who serves the very government involved with the death of his most trusted friend. He was a man who has always set up barriers, who now had no one else to turn to but _her_. Riza Hawkeye was the only remnant of his youth, the only one who sees past the smirks and smiles he put on his facade. What Roy said was more than a compliment— it was a cry for help. 

Roy found himself being pulled by the hypnotizing color of her eyes. Her gaze beckoned him to come closer, just like how any kind of poison lures their target. His hands moved on their own, and he cupped her cheek, as smooth and fragile as glass. Her head leaned towards his touch, granting consent to their proximity. Their faces were inches apart, and her sweet, intoxicating vanilla fragrance only dared him to close the gap. 

“Do you mind staying for the night?” Roy’s breath blew as softly on Riza’s cheeks. 

Her lips then curled into a smile, as if it were the only words she longed to hear that night. “All you had to do was ask.” 

In one fluid motion, Riza pushed him through the doorway, invading his humble abode. She kicked the door shut, her eyes glaring at Roy in the dark like a hawk to its prey. Without a minute to waste, Riza yanked him by the collar and crashed her mouth onto his. The same bittersweet taste lingered around his tongue, but this time, he knew it had hit him harder than whiskey. Heat and warmth surged throughout every part of their bodies with every lick, slurp, and gulp of the foreign liquid in their mouths. His hands crept their way up to her spine, while the other held her steady by her curvaceous hips. Their lungs were screaming for air; nevertheless, he pulled her closer as if she were his only source of oxygen— his lifeline. 

Riza broke the contact between their lips, panting with every breath. Roy licked the insides of his cheeks, his throat burning for more. He need not any chaser— he wanted it raw. His thoughts raced for a billion possibilities on how he’d quench his thirst for her, just like any other poison of his choice. Only this time, she was his favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> How do you find this fic so far? I'd love to hear about it! I'm always looking forward for new ways to improve my writing!
> 
> and oh my goodness look what quarantine deprived me of! HAHAHA I'm very tempted to add this steamy scene in the tags but I couldn't afford to spoil anything! and so I only placed "Rating May Change" :P I left my readers hanging on my other fic, so here's a compensation wahahah. Is this in the same timeline as the journal fic, you ask? Maybe,,, :>
> 
> I wonder what will happen next hmm. Any requests? Also, like I said, this is a two-shot! I'll be updating this soon (after our finals ahu pray for me T.T)
> 
> Clarification: Riza only had two glasses here! Roy doesn't actually notice since he's busy with his thoughts. But guys please please please don't drink and drive!


End file.
